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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205505">Drunk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaurakahvi/pseuds/kaurakahvi'>kaurakahvi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking, F/F, Hotels, Late at Night, Quiet, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:35:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaurakahvi/pseuds/kaurakahvi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Widowmaker and Sombra don't get along. Between Amélie and Olivia, things are different - but only late at night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Story to cheer up a sick friend. Get well soon!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <hr/>
  <p>Amélie was drunk. Oh, God, how drunk she was. She could barely keep her eyes from crossing as she dragged her fingertips down the woman’s tan skin. Her smell was so strong this close by... the way she breathed as she watched Amélie through half-lidded eyes. God, oh God, Amélie wanted to be drunk forever. Tomorrow would be a cruel joke after this night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Your skin is cold,” Olivia stated. Her voice wasn’t irritating - or irritated - as it usually was when she was around Amélie. When she was Sombra. Widowmaker hated Sombra. She could have put a bullet in her head. But Amélie<em>wanted</em> Olivia. It was different when it was the nightly hours, and when they were several drinks too deep into a meeting.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“As if you didn’t know it was,” Amélie stated in return, her voice honeyed and stretching like sweet caramel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Olivia huffed with contentness. She stretched like a cat. Her voice wasn’t irritating, and it wasn’t irritated; so what was it? Amélie pondered it for a while. It was almost curious. Like a cat watching a mouse. Stretching. Waiting to pounce, perhaps.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Amélie had never felt like a mouse before.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She watched Olivia stir beside her, climb into a sitting position and then grasp a hold of her knees, land her sharp chin between the two. The curve of her spine was visible against the dark of Paris shining through the hotel curtains. Amélie wanted to lick it like a stream of pure spring water rushing down the smooth rock of a mountain. Olivia’s hand landed on the curve of Amélie's hip, hidden underneath the soft vastness of the comforter. She wanted to purr out of pleasure. Which one of them was the cat then? Olivia’s fingers were long as they traced the bump down towards Amélie’s thigh, and she missed it once it was gone. In the same breath, however, Olivia was over her - the look in her eyes was teasing and dark, and the way she spoke against Amélie’s skin felt like a kiss upon her skin, her hair standing at alarm all over with a chill rushing through her formerly so lifeless body. With Olivia, there wasn’t a part of her that was lifeless. She could light Amélie on fire. She wanted to moan, but instead she closed her eyes and listend to her words.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you wanna find out how hot I can make you?” Olivia whispered, her voice barely audible, barely more than a breath over Amélie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The pale woman nodded. She wanted to be made alive again.</p>
</div>
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